The Intern Series: Blackout Juggling
by whalerider
Summary: Greg takes his new intern out to a bar after work. Story 1 of 4, part of coauthoring with causeofCSI.
1. Uneasy Attractions

There were three things Jessica Kolns realized at that moment: first, she was trapped under a mountain of boxes; second, the storage and supply closet smelled quite badly; and third, it was highly likely that no one noticed she was missing. _Scratch that third one_, she told herself as the door finally opened just beyond her head.  
Gil Grissom blinked a few times: he had seen many strange things in his time as CSI supervisor, but the sight of the redheaded intern buried beneath piles of gloves, alcohol pads, and microscope slide protectors, was a novel sight indeed. He cocked his head slightly in question. "Do I want to know?" he asked, eyebrows raised. _Easy, Gil_, he reminded himself as he helped clear away the mountain of supplies. _It's only her first day, and she's just a kid. She'll get better with time._ He extended a hand down to the young woman, whose face now matched the liberally applied red streaks in her already red-brown hair.  
Jessie felt a soothing hand patting her back, and it suddenly came to her that she was mindlessly babbling apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just- it just- I was just- but I- it- oh, crap!"  
Grissom opened his mouth again, about to offer a few words of comfort.  
"Hey! Grissom! You found my intern! Wait, where was she? I sent her to get some more slides about half an hour ago." Greg Sanders skidded to a halt in front of the pair, his sneakers squeaking noisily on the polished tile floor as he braked.  
The girl gestured helplessly behind her, tears of mortified shame threatening to drip from her eyelashes. Her hands flew up to cover her face, and she let out a self-abasing moan.  
Seeing no need to add insult to injury, Grissom explained for her. "She would have been back sooner, Greg, but apparently _someone_ stocked the slides _under_ the cotton balls."  
Greg had the grace to flush guiltily under the scrutiny of the older man's mild but direct stare. He noticed two things as Jessie slowly lowered her hands: one, her brown eyes were _really_ really cute; and two, her cheek was bleeding. "Oh, jeez! Here." He fumbled in the pocket of his lab coat and drew out a spare kleenex, noticing quite acutely that his hands trembled as he handed the intern the tissue. _Christ, Greg! You're supposed to be good with the ladies, not shake like a leaf and act like a horny teenager!  
_He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, um, I should, uh, get you back to the...the...um..." _Crap! Great, Sanders, stutter like a lovesick kid. Uh, what's that place called?  
_ "Um, you mean the lab?" Jessie volunteered shakily, sniffling back the tears and pressing the kleenex to her cheek.  
"Yeah, that's it! Phsht! It's, uh, it's been a, uh, long day. Anyways, I'll, uh, just get back to work, then," Greg flashed Grissom a hasty, sheepish smile, draped his arm around Jessie's shoulders, and stumbled away, stuttering halfhearted apologies. Grissom let a knowing smile drift across his lips on the way back to his office. On sheer impulse, he began to whistle "Love Is In The Air" as he walked.  
Greg flinched as though he had been slapped, and dropped his arm back to his side.


	2. That SO Didn't Just Happen!

Jessie twirled absently in Greg's swivel chair in the DNA lab, nervously nibbling on her lower lip as the young CSI rummaged through a cabinet, searching for the box of bandaides he always kept on hand. She suddenly became aware of the fact that while she had been spinning in the chair, her eyes had fixed themselves, in a rather admiring way, on Greg's backside. _Damn! He must work out, or something, because this view is _fiiiine Just as quickly, she mentally slapped herself. _Oh, God! Idid_not_justlookthere! _Jess hastily averted her eyes, and only by sheer willpower was she able to keep her hungry gaze from wandering back to its previous subject. That was hard indeed, considering the object of her meandering eyes' affection was currently ass-up in the bottom of the cabinet. It didn't help that he was wearing rather tight jeans, either.

Greg slowly straightened, clutching the cardboard box of bandaides, fully aware that he was being watched. He spun on his heel, a puppyish grin plastered across his face, the ever-so-perky CSI taking over for the oh-so-_completely_-lustful boy. Marching over to his chair, he clamped a hand down on the back, bringing Jessie's tilt-a-whirl ride to a jolting stop. "Found them!" he proclaimed triumphantly, and pulled out two tiny strips. As he peeled the paper backing off the bandages, he fumbled, dropping one to stick to the tile floor. _So be it_, he told himself, shoving down the CSI and letting the kid he really was take back over. He bent down to scrape the sticky thing off the floor, intentionally giving his intern a delicious view of hard, small, Greg-ass, wonderfully showcased in his almost-too-small jeans.

Jessie stifled a giggle of joy at this intentional display.

Greg stood back up, pulling a fresh bandaide from the box, and shooting a three-pointer into the far wastebasket with the one from the floor. He bent slightly to apply the bandaides to Jessie's cheek, and almost lost it. He found himself with a very convenient-and wonderful-view of her cleavage, her breasts rising and falling gently under the hot-pink cami she wore beneath her lab coat. _I_so_didnotjustlookdownhershirt!_ he babbled to himself. Her breath was warm and quick against his cheek as he smoothed the strip of gauze and plastic onto her face. He tore his gaze away as he finished applying the second bandaide, and ended up staring directly into her warm chocolate eyes. Her pupils contracted slightly as he stared into the soft depths. _Just like a deer's eyes_, he decided. _Soft, gentle, brown velvet._

Jessie pulled away from Greg before she did anything stupid, like lean in and see if his lips were really as soft as they looked.

Greg choked back a tiny sigh of disappointment as Jessie turned to leave. Their shift was over for the night, he realized as he glanced down at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. His libido elbowed him furiously, and before he could lose the nerve, he blurted out, "Hey, Jessica! Wait!"

The intern stopped in her tracks and turned slightly. "Yeah, Mr. Sanders?"

Screwing up all his courage, Greg hoped he didn't scream like a little girl and run away before he could say anything. "It's Greg, okay? And, um, I, um, that is, do you, I mean, would you, um..." _DAMNIT, GREGORY SANDERS! JUST SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!_ "Would you like to, um, go out for a drink tonight? You know, um, to celebrate your first full day of work? I mean, you survived Grissom, Nick...God, Ecklie came in, and you lived through that! And-"

Jessie cut him off with a small, elegant movement of her wrist. "I would love to...Greg." She rolled his name around in her mouth, liking the smooth, playful sound of it on her tongue. "And it's Jessie, or Jess. I can't stand being called Jessica. It sounds too little-miss-rich-girl, too formal."

Grinning like an idiot, Greg helped her take off her lab coat, pulled off his with practiced ease, and hung them on the rack just inside the door. He turned out the lights, followed Jessie out, turned, closed and locked the door, chirping out a chipper, hyper "Goodnight!" to Nick Stokes as he passed.

The Texan merely grunted in reply, halfheartedly raised a hand in farewell, and stumbled away, only wishing to get some shut-eye.

Throwing caution and good sense to the winds of fate, Greg wrapped an arm around Jessie's waist and started off, surreptitiously flipping off the window to Grissom's office as he left; he hoped his boss saw and got the hint. To his surprise and delight, Jessie didn't pull away, but only settled into the crook of his arm.

"So," she murmured, half sleepy, half startled, but all wildly giddy with happiness and anticipation, "which bar?"


	3. Stardust Shooters and 'I Never'

Jessie gave a silent moan of jealousy as she beheld Greg's car: a vintage, ice blue Mustang, in perfect condition. The envy only grew as she slid into the passenger seat. Not only was the car a vintage Mustang, it was totally pimped out: A/C, CD player, satellite radio, even automatic shifting in place of the clutch.

A short drive later, and they were parked in front of the bar Greg had indicated.

"The 'Cosmoo'?" Jessie asked dubiously. "Never heard of it."

"Well," Greg started up, never one to miss the opportunity to sound highly informed, "They were going to name it the 'Cosmo', but the casino of the same name threatened a huge lawsuit, so they changed it to 'Cosmoo'."

Jessie had to admit, it looked cool. Over the doorway stood a huge neon sign: a cow in a bikini held a margarita and lay, posed like a swimsuit model, on a shooting star. The stardust trailed into the curlicued name of the bar.

Once inside, Greg lost no time in ordering the bar's specialty for both of them: Stardust Shooters: a potent mix of coconut rum, Smirnoff, and chocolate liquer. "Do you know how to play 'I Never'?" he asked Jessie with a wicked grin.

The redhead scoffed. "Doesn't everyone?" She took a cautious sip of her drink. Damn, but it was tasty! "You starting, or should I?" At Greg's nonchalant shrug, she grinned, thinking for a moment. "Okay, then," she declared, "I never...went skinny dipping. And the bathtub doesn't count!"

Greg swore under his breath, and took a swig of his drink. "Damn. My secret's out." He put his drink down again. "I never...did a Polar Bear Swim."

It was Jessie's turn to drink, and she did so with a flourish. "Damn straight I did!" she crowed proudly. "It was cold, I was drunk, and I got paid!" At his look, she clarified, "Spring break cruise to Alaska. Sorority party dare. Got bronchitis soon after. End of story."

Pretty soon, they had both lost count of how many drinks they had had, and the 'I never's were getting quite ridiculous.

Jessie, out of old habit, was still gnawing on her lip, which had started to bleed very slightly. Of course, she was too drunk to notice.

Greg searched his mind for another one, racking his fuzzy, drink-addled brains for just one more 'I never'. The CSI side of him was already cowering in a far corner of his mind, thinking of the next day's hangover, Grissom's wrath, and all the DNA evidence that could be thrown out by his mistakes caused by said hangover. The lustful, crazy kid was dancing in circles around the CSI, giving the serious side of Greg a few playful pokes and taunts. Then, one came to him. "Okay, I go' one. How 'bout this: I never...kissed you before." Before he lost his nerve, Greg leaned in and closed his mouth over Jessie's. _Wow_, he thought. She tasted of chocolate-covered coconut rum, underlaid with a faint, coppery sweetness that the CSI cowering in his head instantly identified as blood from her teeth-worried lip.

Jessie's last intelligible thought was, _Hmmmmmm. His lips are really soft. Taste nice, too._ Then, she pulled reluctantly away, stood up, and grabbed Greg's car keys. Being only three sheets to the wind while he was at least nine meant she was the driver. And she thought it wise to get both of them out of the bar before one, the other, or both of them ended up on the counter of the bar.

"Wait! Wha you doin? Where you goin?" Greg complained, aware only that he was no longer kissing her. "Hey, Red, come back here! Those're m'keys!" He drunkenly reeled in front of her, and kissed her again.

Jessie pulled her mouth from his. "I know. I'm taking you home. We're both drunk enough. I don't think the others here need us to be going any further." She shivered as Greg nipped lightly at her earlobe and pressed up against her.

"Please?" Greg truly sounded like an impatient, spoiled child now.

Jessie shook the keys at him. "The sooner you get that terrifically gorgeous ass into the car, the sooner we can make that whining of yours stop." _Or get louder_, she thought wickedly. _Hmmm...Red...hot name. I like it._ In her mind, she was dancing wildly, but also envisioning all the terribly kinky things she could do to a totally wasted Greg Sanders. _Damn it. I just said that out loud, didn't I?_

Greg beat her to the car, snapping out of his drunken, horny stupor to wince as Jessie wove in and out of lanes, clipping his mailbox on the way into his driveway. Or at least he hoped it was his driveway. He peered muzzily at the house number. Yup. His. At least she understood his directions.

The pair barely made it into the house before they were fiercely kissing again, and more. There was a mad scramble as they hopelesly juggled various articles of clothing.

Jessie's last conscious thought was, _Yippeeeee! Wait, hangover tomorrow! Ooooohhh, that felt good. Uh-oh. That hand is going where? Ah, what the hell. Live it up, girl!_ She kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.


End file.
